Backwards Moon (7 page)

“It's not that simple.”

“You could come to my house,” said Elizabeth. “You could hide there. My parents wouldn't be able to see you, would they?”

“No,” Nettle said slowly.

“It's awesome, I have to say, that grown-ups can't see you. The teachers, they looked
right at you
.” She laughed softly. “I mean, imagine the possibilities.”

“Everybody else saw me.” Nettle frowned, remembering.

Elizabeth frowned too. “It was terrible, everybody pointing and staring and screaming like that. Stupid! But there's no one at my house but me and my parents. Jason and those others, you'd be safe from them. And the police, and dogs, and everyone.”

Nettle bit her lip, hesitating.

“Today, when you came, it was amazing.” Elizabeth paused. “I always, like,
read
about magic. You know? And then it happened!”

“I guess I could hide at your house,” said Nettle.

Elizabeth smiled widely. “All
right
!” she said. “Follow me. Stay high, though.”

Nettle flew behind as Elizabeth glided away, her shadow flickering beneath the lanterns that lit each side of the street. They turned onto a new street, and then another. Each street seemed to be part of a network of many streets, all laid out in squares.

After a time they turned onto a narrower street where the houses were smaller and made of wood instead of stone. Elizabeth stopped and waved Nettle down.

“See that house there? The white one with the green roof and the big evergreen right next to it? That's my house. My room is on the second floor, in the back there. Behind, see? I'm going to sneak in and, well, I've sort of missed dinner,
and I'm going to be in trouble. Which is okay, really! Because they'll just send me to my room. And then I can let you in the window.” She looked at Nettle earnestly. “Got that?”

Nettle nodded.

“Okay,” said Elizabeth. “Here goes.”

Nettle hovered outside Elizabeth's window for what seemed like a long time.

At last a light came on. Elizabeth slid open the window. Nettle ducked and flew through.

“My parents' bedroom is down the hall, so we'll have to be really, really quiet,” Elizabeth whispered. “Right now they're still downstairs. They're not too mad, really. So it's okay.”

“That's good,” whispered Nettle.

Elizabeth watched admiringly as Nettle stowed her broomstick in her pocket. “Cool! Very cool. So, this is my room.”

“It's . . . nice,” said Nettle, blinking.

Everything seemed to be a very bright color. Pink, purple, yellow, green . . . Heaps of clothing were scattered all over the floor. Books and papers nearly covered the bed.

“Are you tired?” Elizabeth asked. “You look pretty tired.” She rummaged underneath the bed. “I have a sleeping bag for when friends stay over, but if my mom comes and it looks like someone's in it and no one's there, she might start wondering. So if you hear anything, get out quick and shove the sleeping bag under the bed, okay? Do you want some pajamas? Or a nightgown?”

“I need to keep my dress on, and my hat right near.” Nettle paused. “It's our dresses and hats that make us invisible.”

“Okay,” said Elizabeth. “The bathroom's down the hall.
I'll show you the way, but be really, really quiet. Did you bring a toothbrush?”

Nettle looked at her blankly.

The sleeping bag was soft and very comfortable. And the bathroom was a wonder: an amazing invention.

Elizabeth shoved a cascade of stuff from the bed and climbed in. “Tomorrow is Saturday,” she whispered.
“Yes!”

“Saturday,” said Nettle drowsily, trying to remember what Saturday was. Some kind of human something or other. . . .

And in another moment, she was asleep.

All day as the sun passed over the aspen grove, Bracken slept uneasily, waking often. Then at last it was night again. She sat up in her hammock.

She ate some of her journey bread and drank a bottle of blackberry juice, then took a last glance around her. The aspen leaves rustled lightly in the night breeze. Already the grove seemed a sheltered place that a part of her—the tight, afraid part—didn't want to leave. But she got on her broomstick anyway. “Go,” she told herself and lifted off.

She flew until the snow-topped mountains that had once encircled her world were only a distant glimmer in the moonlight, low on the horizon.

Now on the flatlands, human lights appeared, and some of them moved.
Roar
they went, followed by the silence of the wide night. Then
roar
, silence, and another roar.

Sometimes she passed over long rows of tall poles. The wires that ran between them whined faintly.

Now and then she saw whole clusters of lights, twinkling on the dark plain, and she knew they were human towns.

After what seemed like many, many hours, the night began to fade. Bracken's heart tightened in her chest. She scanned the plain for a hiding place. But the only cover anywhere, the only places to hide in this vast, flat land seemed to be a few scattered clusters of trees.

She flew toward one, slowed, and hovered.

“Who goes there?” said a voice like a wolf's. Then it began to bark.

A dog, Bracken realized. It barked furiously, with mindless hatred. Bracken sped away.

She tried another grove, but there among the trees sat a human house, its windows staring. Another dog bayed. And every moment, the sky grew lighter! Bracken's hand crept to the Woodfolk bead necklace. But Toadflax had told her to use it only in direst need.

Far ahead, a river glittered in the sun's first rays. Bracken sped toward it, then slowed above the cottonwoods that grew along its banks. She landed in a treetop. She stowed her broom but lingered, watching through the screen of leaves as the red sun rose and the sky filled with light.

A bank of clouds lay low in the east, and now, gradually, its underside was lit in brilliant pink, then gold, then orange. “Oh!” breathed Bracken. Sunrise in the mountains was only a glow in the sky—never like this. The distant horizon circled all around. The edge of the sky met the earth.

It seemed, suddenly, that it might be all right to be out in the wide world. Bracken felt brave and strong. She hung her hammock, climbed in and swung gently, hidden by the leaves. She listened to the rush of water and felt the warming sun. She closed her eyes and slept.

When she woke, the sun had set and night had fallen. She clambered out of her hammock, folded it neatly, and stowed it in her pocket. She had just finished eating and watching the stars come out one by one when she heard the first bark.

She froze, listening.

It was not one dog, but many, she realized with a chill. She got to her feet and pulled her broom from her pocket.

Below her, twigs snapped and a smallish, humpbacked animal came lumbering through the trees. It stood for a moment, its head lolling. Then it staggered to the base of Bracken's tree and began to climb. It had a black mask and a bushy ringed tail. Bracken crouched, watching, as the creature climbed higher. The raccoon, for so it was, crawled along a branch then hunched down, its back to the tree trunk. “Done for,” it moaned as the barking grew louder and higher in pitch.

Before Bracken could say anything, a dog bounded through the underbrush, barking in mad excitement. It ran to Bracken's tree, put its two front paws on the trunk and howled into the darkness.

Bracken leapt to her broom as dog after dog ringed the trunk, all baying in triumph.

“Get on!” she cried, hovering in front of the raccoon. His whiskers quivered. Then he jumped. Bracken's broom dipped—he was surprisingly heavy.

The dogs howled frantically. A beam of light raked the tree branches. A dull bang, and something rattled through the leaves.

“Get 'em!” cried a human voice. There was another bang and more rattling. “Get 'em!” the voice cried again.

“That way!” cried the raccoon, amid more banging and
popping. “Yes!” he said gleefully. “My finest escape ever!” More bangs and poppings sounded.

A sudden, searing pain shot through Bracken's leg. The broom lurched wildly.

“That way,” gasped the raccoon.

Bracken craned around to see him pointing with one trembling finger.

“There's a farm that way, an old one,” he cried. “There's no hunting there.”

An owl hooted from a grove. Behind it loomed a swaybacked barn, its hayloft door hanging open. They hurtled through and crashed to the floor. Bracken slid from the broom and lay in a heap, clutching her leg. “You're bleeding,” moaned the raccoon, wringing his little hands.

From outside came a crunching, rumbling sound and a tumult of barking.

“It's a pickup truck,” gasped the raccoon. “They come in pickup trucks.”

Bracken hobbled to the hayloft door and watched, trembling, as two men with guns—
guns!
—got out.

And then a human child—a boy with a gun.

The men and the boy walked up the farmhouse steps and rapped on the door. A light came on above the porch, and the front door opened. “All right, but be quick about it,” said a man's voice. The door slammed shut. The dogs barked mindlessly from the pickup truck.

“It came this way!” said the boy's clear voice. “It was
huge
.”

The humans shone lights into the trees, sweeping them in great arcs through the night. Then the boy and one man walked toward the barn.

“Fly!” whispered the raccoon. He grabbed Bracken's broom
and shoved it at her, but when she tried it, everything swirled crazily around her.

“I can't,” she moaned.

“This way. Hurry!” said the raccoon, his voice shrill with fear.

Bracken hobbled after him to a far corner where old, dusty hay lay in drifts. She hid herself as best she could. Below them came a sliding, creaking sound.

Two heads emerged through the opening in the hayloft floor and clambered up, guns in hand. “Here,” said the man, handing the boy a light. “You find it.”

The boy swept the light back and forth along the heavy ceiling beams.

“I told you it was nothing,” said the man.

“I saw it,” said the boy. “I swear to God I saw it.”

The light played around the barn, casting crazy shadows. Then it shone straight into Bracken's eyes.

“A witch!” screamed the boy. He stepped closer. “It's right there! See it?”

“No,” said the man.

“Hold the light!” cried the boy. “Shine it right there in the corner.” He took his gun in both hands. He was lifting it to his shoulder when Bracken clutched her necklace and whispered the spell.

The next instant, someone was standing behind the man and the boy. He was an old man, but big and strong-looking.

“What the hell is all this
ruckus
?” he asked. He wasn't carrying a gun.

“It's a witch,” cried the boy. “Right there! In the corner! See her?”